


Do It For the Beads

by desertdrift (AlsaTronic)



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fade to Black, M/M, Mardi Gras, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22926142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlsaTronic/pseuds/desertdrift
Summary: Merriell doesn't give a shit if it's corny or whatever staying in a hotel in the French Quarter on Mardi Gras like some tourist, it's more than worth it to see Eugene enjoy himself more than he has in a long while. Of course, he'd bite his own tongue off before he said so out loud, but that's not the point.
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Do It For the Beads

They roll out of bed sometime around noon, but only because Merriell has to piss and they're both half starved. He nearly walks out the door in the same clothes he'd fallen into bed with last night before Eugene grabs hold of him, insisting they freshen up first ("Doesn't matter if it's Mardi Gras," Gene says, "we should still make ourselves presentable, at least.").

Two hot showers later (because they never would've left the room if they'd tried to bathe together), they're stumbling through the already busy streets of the French Quarter looking for someplace decent to eat. Well, Merriell's looking, since he knows the place better. Eugene trails him slowly, getting caught up in the sights and sounds and colors and the various people hanging around on corners and under shop awnings and elsewhere. Merriell doesn't give a shit if it's corny or whatever staying in a hotel in the French Quarter on Mardi Gras like some tourist, it's more than worth it to see Eugene enjoy himself more than he has in a long while. Of course, he'd bite his own tongue off before he said so out loud, but that's not the point. Besides, it's not like Merriell himself had the time or the money to just wander up and down the place in his youth; too many obligations limited what he could do for leisure, and by the time he was old enough that his time was mostly his own, he was about ready to be shipped off to war.

They round a few corners, and Merriell's almost certain they're lost, before he finds the place he's looking for. It's rather nondescript, and Eugene comments on how run-down it looks. Merriell just chuckles at him; it's always been a bit run-down, ever since he used to come here as a boy. It does look a bit more run-down than when he saw it last, but that could just be his shitty memory. Either way, he grabs Eugene's wrist and drags him inside, eager in his bossy, excited way to show the man he loves a rare piece of his childhood.

Merriell has no problem finding them two seats at the counter; it was never a very busy restaurant, even when he was younger, but the amount of vacancies seems larger than he remembers. He rings the service bell, but instead of some waitress coming out to take their order, it's the owner of the place herself. Merriell can feel the shock on his face, but it's followed closely by relief. Mrs. Riley hadn't exactly been a spring chicken the last time he'd been here, and a tiny part of him had worried she'd passed on while he was serving his country. That seems to not be the case; she's heavier now, with a good deal more wrinkles in her face, and he thinks he can see a cataract in one of her eyes, but other than that, it's the same old Mrs. Riley who used to give him an extra beignet whenever he came, telling him, "well, I've got to do _something_ with the leftovers!" It had taken him a while to realize that what he thought were "leftovers" weren't even stale at all, but he never said anything.

Eugene defers to his judgment and lets him order for the both of them. It's such a small thing, but a funny little spark of pride lights up in his chest anyway. He orders the gumbo, since it's the best he's ever had (next to his mother's of course, God help him if he thought otherwise).

"Snaf, one of these days you are gonna cook for me," Gene says quietly after Mrs. Riley heads back into the kitchen.

Merriell has to work not be overheard when he laughs. "Sure. If you want me to burn the house down." Gene looks like he doesn't believe him, so maybe he _will_ have to show off some of his (limited) culinary skills. He finds he doesn't mind the idea so much.

The two of them have beignets after their food, and Merriell takes the time to catch up with Mrs. Riley. Long story short, she did let some of her waitstaff go when the number of visitors started declining. Something akin to worry must flash across Merriell's face, because she reaches across the counter to put her hand on his. "Now, don't you worry about me, boy. This old woman's still hangin' in there. Hell, I'll likely still be working here as a ghost, if I know me!" She laughs big, and Merriell laughs along, but he can't quite shake the feeling this place won't be around much longer. Or maybe he's dead wrong, and it'll still be standing long after he and Eugene are dead and buried. She's kept it afloat all these years, after all.

It's about three in the afternoon when they finally leave. The sun beating down is enough to take the edge off the brisk cold, but they're still looking for someplace else to go, preferably somewhere that's indoors. The next few hours are spent aimlessly bouncing from one place to another, ever on the lookout for the next source of entertainment. They see a movie at one point, one so bad that Merriell wants to walk out barely halfway through it. Eugene seems to like it well enough, though, so he stays put like a gentleman and saves his teasing about Gene's taste for later.

When evening rolls around, perhaps against their better judgment, they go drinking. It's surprisingly Eugene's idea, something about not having to stay sober for his sake. Well then. Merriell had been avoiding the bars because being drunk around a bunch of other equally or more drunk folks didn't personally sound like a good time that day, but if his Gene wanted to have that kind of fun...

There's supposed to be a parade of some kind at 7, and it's only 6 now, so they duck into the first bar they find. The place could win first prize for genericness, but since Merriell's plan is to get them drunk and out of there before the streets fill up even more than they are now, appearances don't matter. He hopes the booze is good, at least.

Whether the booze is good or not becomes a moot point some ungodly number of shots later. There's singing and dancing, laughter that's too loud for the joke to have been any good, and Merriell's sure Eugene's wandered off a couple of times. By the time they come up for air, they tumble out into the streets and almost right into the parade, which is in full-swing by now.

"Fuck," Merriell says after staring dully at the crowd slowly passing by in front of him. Eugene thinks this is the funniest thing he's ever heard.

The plan now is to get them both back to their hotel room without too much fuss. Damn near impossible, though, when they're both three sheets to the wind and Gene's laughing his fool head off every few minutes at some joke only he knows. He's not even entirely sure where the hotel is from here, most of his sense of direction having been obliterated by too much cheap drink. He ought to be pissed off, and maybe he will be when the hangover hits tomorrow, but right now he's headed in a random direction down the sidewalk, hand-in-hand with Eugene with nobody saying anything about it (he doubts anyone's even paying that much attention to them), and isn't _that_ something of a miracle. It hovers somewhere in the back of his mind that he doesn't tell Eugene "I love you" nearly enough, but it's hard when you never know who might be listening or looking too closely (and it's a damn shame how the paranoia follows them into the privacy of their home sometimes). Sometimes, what's between them feels like this fragile thing, and the feeling's been there ever since he got off the train with Eugene.

He gets the sudden urge to see Eugene, and maybe it's the streetlights, or all the alcohol they've both had, but he doesn't think he's ever seen his boy's hair so red, or his cheeks so rosy, or his eyes so bright. For a moment, he thinks he's been visited by a fairy, and he immediately blames that thought on the booze.

Getting back to the hotel is more of a struggle than it needs to be, what with bumping into uncoordinated bodies and trying to cross busy streets, but they manage. The man at the front desk side-eyes them all the way to the elevator, probably wondering if the two obviously drunk hooligans are going to trash the room they're staying in. On the elevator ride up, Eugene half hugs him, half slumps over on him, and thanks Merriell for showing him a good time. That alone might be worth the pounding headache he's gonna wake up with later. Maybe.

They pour out of the elevator when it opens onto their floor and shamble down the hall to their room, laughing the whole way. They've hit the point where everything under the sun is hilarious, and the best part is they don't have to be quiet; everyone else on the floor is probably out celebrating. _And if they aren't,_ Merriell thinks, _fuck 'em'_.

Several long moments of Eugene fumbling the key around the keyhole and Merriell (poorly) holding him up trying to correct his aim eventually gets them back in their room. Gene practically launches himself onto the bed, but Merriell has just enough presence of mind to lock the door behind himself. He _thinks_ he's locked the door, anyways. He's pretty sure the door's not going to come open some time in the night, which is the important part. He tosses the key somewhere in the vicinity of the table and tangles himself up with Eugene on the hotel bed.

They lay like that, giggling every now and then, wrapped up in their own little bubble of peace. Merriell would like to stare all lovesick at Eugene, but what little light is coming in through the window isn't enough to cut properly through the darkness of the room. Then, he remembers there's a damn lamp by the bed. He untangles himself long enough to muddle his way through twisting the knob to turn it on, and that is _so_ much better. Now he can see Eugene sprawled out on his back, half asleep already, mouth hung open in a dazed smile. His hair's rucked up all over his head, and Merriell can't think of much else more beautiful than that.

He gets back down in bed and wraps himself around Gene, thinking they're both just going to sleep the day off, but Gene starts pushing at him to get off.

"Wait a minute, Snaf. I got, uh, I got somethin' for ya," Gene slurs out.

Merriell looks at him like he's grown an extra head (or maybe he's still seeing double), but he gets up. He sits back on his knees and watches while Eugene fumbles around in his pants pockets for whatever it is he wants to give him. When he see's Gene's face light up, he figures the boy must've found it. Eugene pulls something out of his pocket and tosses it at Merriell's knees.

It's a small string of Mardi Gras beads, purple, gold and green.

"I got some more," Gene says. "They're all kinda tangled up, though. I begged 'em off of this guy when we went to the bar earlier. You remember the bar, right?" The smug, sleepy-eyed smile on his face is breathtakingly adorable, and Merriell laughs.

"Sledge, you don't just hand 'em out like candy!"

Eugene's face scrunches up in confusion for a second. " _Oh_. Alright then." He leans back on his elbows and gives Merriell a look. He's probably aiming for "seductive and in charge" but it lands somewhere around "half asleep" instead. "Show me what you got," he says.

Merriell cackles, liking the direction the night's suddenly headed for. He makes a show of unbuttoning his shirt down to the the waist then holding the lapels closed, building up suspense. When he feels a sufficient amount of erotic tension has built up, he rips open the top of his shirt and shimmies, showing off his bare chest and shoulders like a cheap stripper. Gene hollers like it's the best thing he's seen all day and throws the rest of the glittering lump of beads at him, then promptly falls over when he tries to clap.

Trying to untangle all the beaded necklaces is a no-go, especially in his inebriated state, so Merriell just picks the whole thing up with his mouth and crawls over to Eugene. He settles down (more like "plops down") on him and sloppily nuzzles the side of Gene's neck like a dog. He doesn't even have to string words together to say anything, Gene's already got one hand up the back of his shirt and the other hand on his ass.

* * *

Predictably, they both wake up the next morning (afternoon?) hungover and looking like death. From what little Merriell can remember of yesterday at the moment, it's definitely worth it. It'll be even more worth it when his head stops feeling like it's going to implode, though.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I wrote 2.2k for a joke about Snaf flashing his titties for some Mardi Gras beads lmao. Happy Mardi Gras, y'all!


End file.
